the first week of the rest of my life.

the end is so close it's practically knocking on my door. i gaze around the room, my room, and realise that in a week or so my life will be in packed up and sealed in little cardboard boxes, a thought that is simultaneously exhilarating and fearsome. the pictures, the posters, the miscellaneous junk that adorns my shelves and walls will be stripped away. my laundry basket, piled high with clothes and other assorted washable materials, will once again fall into disuse; never again will i need to fear a lack of clean, laundry fresh clothes. the maid will ensure it. rare will be the day i will have to concern myself with groceries, or cooking, or the like.

in a week, i will (God-willing) have a job, a new room, a brand new life. time they say, is the great equaliser. never before have i felt the absolutely truth behind that statement so acutely. i am at once equal parts pain and sorrow, on one hand, and utterly unfettered joy on the other. this is, after all, simply the end of the beginning.